Pristine
by StrawberriesAndCinnamonJAM
Summary: It's her best kept secret, hidden away in a little drawer in the farthest corner of her house. And no one, will ever know. AU, Dark fic.


**A/N: Yup, this is another dark fic… and I only just realized now that I'm published this on Halloween. Kind of suiting isn't it?**

**I don't think this is as good as my first one, but oh well. **

**Anyways, if your a squeamish person don't read this. **

**Warning: Self-harm**

_Drip…_

_Drip…_

_Drip…_

Red splashes on white. Black flakes on dirty grey. The blood oozed and beaded up, before plummeting much like she had.

Eyes raked the sprawling stains; new and old.

She loved it. Her art teachers had always talked about contrast; between light and dark, color and no color. But none of that compared to this.

Blood on porcelain. Now _that _was contrast.

She checked her watch, chewed on her lip as she stared at the triple crevasses in her arm, and checked her watch again. She sighed. Eight A.M. Not enough time. She reached out, placing the little metal piece down, with only a slight tremor to her fingers, she noted with pride.

It was rare that she wouldn't instantly feel like she was in withdrawal when she stopped.

She slammed the drawer, shutting away her secret like she shut away her thoughts in the back of her mind.

She stared at her reflection in the mirror, make-up in place, hiding the deep caves under her eyes, hair smooth with every piece in place. Her uniform was neat and straight, her large sweater draped across her form, even in the summer heat.

A few steps out the room and down the stairs, she flashed a smile to her busy family, and went on her way, one with porcelain teeth and pink lips.

Who knew what was behind that smile?

No one.

And that was how she liked it.

At school, she always made sure to check her expression in the window

Make sure her mouth made just the right amount of curve, and her eyes held jus the right mix between indifference and contentment.

It had to be perfect.

Every little thing had to scream, _perfect._

If it was like that, it drew attention away from her long sleeves, the metal in her pocket.

She walked through the hallways with easy, lifting up her feet with every step, careful not to let the drag show. She hid the gradual up hill climb in shaking, and the way her hands clenched as if to drag her nails against her skin, with constant movement. She known by her 'friends', as a constantly energetic girl.

It was just like she wanted.

A girl with friends, with energy and enjoyment in what she did, was not suspicious.

One with ugly thoughts, and ugly eyes, who slouched and complained, was a painted target.

This girl that she was, was a second skin to her. She slipped it on in the presence of others, and ripped it off during solitude.

A costume that no one ever saw through.

It was always Halloween, for her.

* * *

><p>Rukia wore a lot of bracelets.<p>

No one could see them because of her sleeves, and no one cared to see them.

But she didn't care that there were no eyes on them, she didn't want eyes on them. They were _her _bracelets, in all sorts of patterns. Lines, crosses, circles. Diamonds, squares, and curves.

She got a new one everyday, each one different from the next.

She loved her bracelets.

To her, they were beautiful.

To her, they matched well with her snow white skin.

Though, she thought with a frown, no one else would like them. They would disgust anyone but her.

Well, it was good thing she hide them.

Her bracelets often changed colors, but at one point, they all ended up the same. They went from scarlet reds, to faded rust, to dark burgundy. From an inky black, to a tinged red, to a dull brown.

And finally, creamy white.

She admired them everyday, the way they took up inch after inch of her arm.

It was an art, far more complex and far more detailed then the pathetic stuff she did in class.

Too bad no one understood this art.

If they did, then they could all be like her.

She feels like she's drifting, most of the time.

Because there's no where to go and no where to stay.

The only thing she cares about, is her best friend, sharp and metallic as she is. She doesn't like how she had to leave it behind all the time.

She wants to bring it with her.

Perhaps she will.

No one will notice.

No one will see.

She can hide it very well.

She's never been more grateful for the color black. It's the color of her sweater, the one she pulls over her head every day, the one she constantly yanks down the sleeves on, because the edge just barely covers the loosest of her bracelets.

Because its not white, is why she can have fun with her hobby only minutes before looking everyone in the face.

White would get nastily stained, with blotches of varying shades of red, and that wouldn't do.

To noticeable, to obvious.

But no matter what came in contact with black, it stayed black.

She could feel the red elixir seeping out all day long, a growing path along her arm, that no one noticed.

In the end, once again in the privacy of her home, she rolls up her sleeve. The blood stained in streaks across her arm, beads rolled up and down, like little tears.

Her lips curved up and she smiled.

Her friend had come with her to school today, and it had all worked out.

The blood was drug, she drank it in, craved the look of the little curves trailing through the crevasses of her skin, pooling on her palm to drip between her fingers.

It her little pet snake, made of blood and skin, and she must feed it every day, so it can grow.

Now she had two things she cares about.

Her little friend, and her little snake.

That's all that matters, and that's all she needs.

* * *

><p>It had been a long time. A very long time.<p>

She's long since left behind all those people she'd known.

They'd all went off, doing whatever it is they did, while she stayed with her two little friends.

It was surprisingly easy to smile, even now.

Even though she kept cutting, slicing and sewing.

She still had her little drawer, where she kept her little secret. Expect now, she couldn't remember what the marbled white used to look like. It's all red, so much that you wouldn't be able to distingue it from the paint on her wall if it weren't for the parts that were black and flaking away.

Nowadays, if anyone ever asked, she said she had lots of friends.

And she did now.

It and gone from two, to twenty.

Because, she had decided, she like variety nowadays. There was broken glass from the mirror she smashed on the floor, there was shattered ceramics from the mug she threw against the wall, little pieces she took from her recently ruined razor.

She was quite a popular person, or so she thought.

It was, again, eight in the morning. Her business suit was rolled up, exposing white and creamy flesh.

Her bracelets overlapped. She couldn't help it. She had so many, they covered every inch of her skin, and so she had to put some on top.

She choose a nice spot, the crook of her elbow. Her selected metal tickled her arms, a cold line against her otherwise warm skin. She smiled briefly as it bit into her skin, easily and quickly.

Like all the other times, the blood welled up, spilling over like red wine, dripping forwards onto the layers of blood in her drawer.

She wiped it away, rolled her black suit back down and returned her friends to their home. From there, she marched outside, heading to the bus stop, and then work.

She nodded pleasantly at her hard-working neighbor, and tugged her black sleeve over the ring of scars starting right where her hand ended, and her wrist began.

No one, would ever know.

**And there it is. I don't know if this is good or not, but whatever. Either way, it didn't take long to write. **

**Review please :)**


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